The Apache woman pressed her hand against the cowboy’s chest and whispered, “Take me somewhere private tonight. I need you to trust me.”
Caleb Morgan stared into her frightened eyes.
They stood beneath a rocky overhang while rain swept across the Arizona desert. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks, and a torn blue shawl barely covered her shoulders.
“My father must never know what happened here,” she added.
Caleb stepped back.
“Lady, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Aiyana.”
“And why are three riders searching for you?”
She looked toward the distant ridge.
“Because I’m the chief’s daughter.”
Caleb had been riding toward Silver Creek when he discovered her trapped beside an overturned wagon. One wheel had broken, scattering blankets and wooden crates across the muddy trail.
He helped her escape the wreckage and brought her beneath the rocks before the storm grew worse.
Now she was asking him to hide her.
“Are you running from your family?” he asked.
“No. I’m trying to save them.”
“From what?”
Aiyana hesitated.
“Something my father refuses to believe.”
Caleb studied her.
He was thirty two, a widowed rancher who had spent five lonely years repairing fences, raising cattle, and avoiding trouble.
His wife, Mary, had died during a harsh winter. Since then, Caleb preferred the company of horses to strangers.
But something about Aiyana’s desperation made walking away impossible.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
She reached beneath her shawl and removed a small leather pouch.
“Three nights ago, I discovered this hidden inside my father’s council lodge.”
“What is it?”
“Proof that someone close to him has been lying.”
Before Caleb could answer, hoofbeats echoed through the canyon.
Aiyana grabbed his sleeve.
“Please. Don’t let them see me.”
He guided her behind a cluster of boulders.
Three riders appeared through the rain.
Their leader wore a gray coat and carried a silver walking stick.
Caleb recognized him.
Victor Shaw.
A wealthy trader who supplied neighboring settlements and claimed to be a trusted friend of Chief Nantan.
Shaw stopped near the broken wagon.
“She can’t have gone far,” he told the others.
One rider pointed toward the overhang.
“Someone brought her this way.”
Caleb held his breath.
Aiyana moved closer, her fingers trembling against his arm.
“If they find the pouch,” she whispered, “my father will lose everything.”
Caleb glanced at her.
“Then we make sure they don’t.”
Shaw called into the darkness.
“Miss Aiyana! Your father is worried. Come out, and we’ll take you home.”
She shook her head.
“He doesn’t know Shaw followed me.”
Caleb waited until the riders continued down the canyon.
Then he turned toward her.
“There’s an old line shack near my ranch. You can stay there tonight.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“If that’s what keeps you safe.”
Aiyana studied his face.
“Even after you learn what’s inside?”
Caleb nodded.
“Even then.”
They reached the shack after sunset.
Inside, Caleb lit a lantern while Aiyana carefully opened her pouch.
A silver pendant fell onto the table.
Caleb froze.
He recognized the engraving.
It was the same symbol carved into the wooden cross above Mary’s grave.
“Where did you get that?” he whispered.
Aiyana looked at him with sudden sorrow.
“Your wife gave it to my mother.”
Caleb gripped the table.
“My wife never knew your family.”
Aiyana slowly unfolded a letter.
“She knew us better than you think.”
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